Argentina’s Voice: La Prensa

Argentines are minutely curious about the world. Although newsprint (from the U.S.) is scarce, La Prensa usually carries 32 columns of foreign news—more than any other paper in the world. Four years ago most was European—today New York or Washington has as many datelines as London.

La Prensa’s front page is solid (save for a small box for important headlines) with classified ads. So, usually, are the following six pages—one reason the paper nets a million dollars or more annually. Lately La Prensa has made some concessions to modernity: it now carries two comic strips, occasional news pictures.

Deliveries, Duels, Discussions.

La Prensa will not deliver the paper to a politician’s office; he must have it sent to his home. It will not call for advertising copy. No local staffman has ever had a byline.

South American journalism is more hazardous than the North American brand. La Prensa’s publisher and principal owner, Ezequiel Pedro Paz, Don José’s son, has twice been challenged to a duel. Because he is a crack pistol shot, neither duel was fought. Now over 70, Don Ezequiel shows up at the paper punctually at 5 p.m. for the daily editorial conference with Editor-in-Chief Dr. Rodolfo N. Luque. Present also is his nephew and heir-apparent, handsome Alberto Gainza (“Tito”) Paz, 43, father of eight and ex-Argentine open golf champion. Significantly, La Prensa’s owner-publishers visit their editor-in-chief and not vice versa.

La Prensa’s foreign affairs editorials often wield great influence, but have not budged the isolationism of President Ramón Castillo. The paper has supported Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, pumped for the United Nations, denounced the totalitarians. But it speaks softly. When Argentina’s President Castillo gagged the press with a decree forbidding editorial discussions of foreign events, admirers of Don José recalled how he once suspended publication in protest at another Argentine President’s like decree. If old Don José were now alive, declared they, he would again have stopped La Prensa’s presses rather than submit to Castillo’s regulations. — TIME, Oct. 26, 1942

Prensa Presses

TIME magazine,
16 July 1934On the roof of the imposing La Prensa building in Buenos Aires’ wide Avenida de Mayo is a large siren. Its piercing screech, audible for miles, heralds the break of hot news. Long ago a city ordinance was passed forbidding use of the siren and the publishers rarely sound it nowadays. But when some world-shaking event takes place, La Prensa’s horn shrills and a Prensa office boy trots downtown to pay the fine before its echo has died away.

Last week the fingers of La Prensa’s acting publisher, Dr. Alberto Gainza Paz, itched to push the siren button. There was much to celebrate. Not only was it Nueve de Julio, Argentina’s Independence Day, but potent old La Prensa was formally inaugurating a new $3,000,000 printing plant, finest in South America. Its holiday edition ran to 725,000 copies— 150,000 more than its previous record.

The plant is housed in a new building a half mile from the main office, in the rent-cheap industrial district. It is linked to the editorial rooms by pneumatic tubes. The installation includes a 21-unit Hoe press similar to that of the New York World-Telegram. The press is driven by 56 motors, is fed by 63 rolls of newsprint and two six-ton tanks of ink. A normal edition of 250,000 copies (400,000 Sunday) is spewed out in considerably less than an hour. Since Buenos Aires is so far from the Canadian pulp market, La Prensa keeps on hand up to 7,500 tons of newsprint, enough to supply its needs for three months or, in emergency, to produce a smaller paper for a year.

Completion of the new plant marked the almost complete retirement of La Prensa’s publisher and principal owner, Don Ezequiel P. Paz. Son of the late Dr. José C. Paz, who turned out the first copy of La Prensa 65 years ago on a tiny hand press, Don Ezequiel started to work around the shop as a youngster in 1896, took full charge while still a young man. He devoted his life completely to his newspaper, spent nearly all his waking hours in his incredibly ornate office, denied himself to practically all callers except his editors. Past 60, of nervous temperament, he lives nearly half the year at his French estate near Biarritz. On his transatlantic trips he customarily takes a large party of relatives, and for the sake of his diet, a cow. The cow makes the round trip but must be sacrificed in sight of her native land because of Argentina’s rigid quarantine against all imported cattle. Don Ezequiel sailed for Biarritz last month, regarding the new plant as perhaps the last important milestone in his publishing career. Childless, he turned his responsibilities over to his nephew, youthful Dr. Alberto Gainza Paz, whom he carefully tutored as he himself had been trained by Founder José. So puny in boyhood that he was not expected to live. Dr. Gainza made of himself one of the foremost amateur athletes in Buenos Aires.

Beyond dispute La Prensa is the leading newspaper in South America, is read throughout the continent. Sternly independent, it truckles to no political party, even refuses to accept political advertising on the ground that if any politician is really as good as he claims, he is legitimate news and will be reported accordingly.

To U. S. newsreaders, a typical copy of La Prensa is a curious sight. Prime headlines are massed in a six-column box on the front page, which is otherwise filled with classified advertisements. The “classifieds” run through the next six pages and supply the wherewithal for Publisher Paz’s proud boast that La Prensa is independent of large commercial advertisers. The news pages begin with a lengthy, learned article which most readers skip, but which is supposed to wield strong influence in high places. The news columns proper are top-heavy with foreign news. Probably no other newspaper in the world spends so much money on cable tolls—a fact partly due to Argentina’s cosmopolitan population. La Prensa demands important political speeches in full. It “discovered” Albert Einstein for the world press by first requesting United Press to interview him on his theory of relativity 15 years ago. After La Prensa printed it, U. P. decided to try Einstein on its U. S. clients. La Prensa gives any amount of space to amateur sports, demands play-by-play coverage on important chess matches, but refused Argentina’s Prizefighter Luis Firpo more than the barest mention even at the height of his popularity. It prints voluminous market news, lottery drawings, crossword puzzles, no comics except on Sunday. Its newsphotos are rare and inferior. On Sunday it offers rotogravure in color.

Employing no advertising salesmen, La Prensa never solicited an advertisement. Until a few years ago it would not permit advertisers to use large display type. It rejected a substantial Wrigley campaign because it hesitated to introduce the gum-chewing habit to Argentina. It saw no sense in a Quaker Oats breakfast food advertising program because Argentinians do not eat breakfast. However, La Prensa does print many an advertisement of doctors specializing in venereal diseases. La Prensa is one of the wealthiest newspapers in the world. The Paz family took from it enough to live in ease, plowed back huge sums for improvements and. notably, social services. One of the oldest services is a general delivery postal service, begun after the great immigration of the 1860′s when the Argentine post office proved hopelessly inadequate. To this day a letter addressed care of La Prensa will reach any Argentinian of known residence. Also La Prensa maintains free medical and surgical clinics for the poor, free legal service, and a free three-year music school. Its building houses banquet rooms, lecture halls, library, gymnasium.

The Paz family likes to regard La Prensa as Argentina’s property, themselves as hired managers. — TIME, July 16, 1934

CUSACK’S NOTE: La Prensa was confiscated by Peron’s dictatorship and its assets given to the Peronist CGT trade union. The family’s assets were restituted in 1988 and the newspaper refounded, but its readers had by then moved elsewhere and the La Prensa continues to this day in a much reduced form; its old headquarters on the Avenida de Mayo is now the Casa de la Cultura. The conservative La Nacion is now the only broadsheet in Argentina.

The Primera Revista Latinoamericana

We are of the opinion that the more publications, the merrier, and so we certainly welcome the foundation of the Primera Revista Latinoamerican de Libros. The PRL, which is a sort of Hispanic version of the TLS, started printing last September and is based right here in New York. The bimonthly is published in Spanish but reviews both books that are printed in Spanish and books printed in English. Again, like the TLS, it is not limited to book reviews but features other literary essays as well.

The head honcho at the PRL is Fernando Gubbins, who has earned a master’s degree in Public Affairs from Columbia here in New York and a philosophy degree from the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru. Mr. Gubbins previously edited the opinion & editorial section of the Peruvian newspaper Expreso, and has worked with the Economist Intelligence Unit.

Not being a hispanophone, I am not qualified to render judgement on the quality of the publication’s content, the PRL in print is well designed and has a very traditional but modern feel to it, and it was a pleasure flicking through its pages. The Primera Revista is a welcome addition to the literary world of New York, and of Latin America.

Los Patricios – The Patricians

In my carelessness last week, I mistakenly wrote that the presidential guard in Buenos Aires are the “Patricios” regiment, when (as Cruz y Fierro corrected me) it is actually the Regiment of Horse Grenadiers. The First Regiment of Infantry “Patricios” (literally “Patricians”) is the oldest regiment in the Argentine Army and predates by ten years the country’s Declaration of Independence. It was first assembled as the “Legion of Volunteer Urban Patricians” in 1806 to repel the English invasions of that year.

In these two photos you can see the “Patricios” performing the somewhat-rare ceremony of the changing of the guard at the Cabildo, across the Plaza de Mayo from the Casa Rosada.

andrewcusack.com: Argentina

Changing the Guard in Buenos Aires

The changing of the guard at Government House, Buenos Aires, the Presidential Palace of the Argentine Republic more popularly known as the ‘Casa Rosada’ due to its pink hue.

The Patricios regiment who provide the presidential escort were founded in 1806, making them as old as New York’s 7th Regiment. (Unlike the 7th, however, Los Patricios not only still exist but indeed flourish as the oldest regiment in the Argentine Army).

UPDATE: Cruz y Fierro corrects me that the presidential guard are formed by the Regiment of Horse Grenadiers, not Los Patricios. I have often confused the two in the past, I must admit.

andrewcusack.com: Argentina

A Lawyer’s Studio in Recoleta

This property in the Recoleta neighborhood of Buenos Aires was once a residential apartment until a multi-generational family of lawyers bought and transformed it into a law office.

(more…)

Hipódromo Argentino de Palermo

THE PALERMO RACETRACK is the main center for equestrian events in Buenos Aires. It was first built in 1876. In 1908 the current main stand was built to the beaux-arts design of a French architect, Louis Faure Dujarric. The Argentine Grand National, a race of 2,500 meters, has been run here annually since 1885. (more…)

The Teatro Colón, Buenos Aires

Am I old-fashioned, or aren’t footmen not supposed to smile?

This usher knows precisely how much (which is to say, how little) emotion to show.

But now, everyone to their seats…

[The magnificent Teatro Colón is currently closed for refurbishment until 25 May 2008, when the most prominent opera house under the Southern Cross will reopen brighter and better than ever.]

St. Alban’s College: 1907-2007

ASTUTE READERS OF the Buenos Aires Herald, itself over one hundred and thirty years old, would have noticed in the paid announcements section a week ago Sunday the following notification: (more…)

The Tragedy of the Falklands War

An article (two versions of which are reproduced here below) recently printed exemplifies one of the tragic aspects of the Falklands War: the Anglo-Argentines who, out of loyalty to their homeland, were forced into waging war against their mother country. The subject of the article, Mr. Alan Craig, happens to be a former student of St. Alban’s College, a fine institution in the Provincia de Buenos Aires (currently celebrating its centenary) which I had the great privilege of briefly attending. (C.f. How Andrew Cusack Became a Tea Drinker). Another sad aspect of the Falklands War is that if there are any two nations which should enjoy the bonds of friendship, it is Britain and Argentina. It is a shame when two countries which should be natural companions, perhaps allies, have deep-seated and long-lasting emotions in the way. (One thinks of Germany and Poland in particular).

Interestingly, Argentine textbooks contain maps of the Falkland Islands in which all the towns and geographical features have contrived names en Castellano. Port Stanley, for example, is called Puerto Argentino, while the Falklands themselves are known to Argentines as las Malvinas.

I remember one day in geography class at St. Alban’s, exhibiting the typical brash arrogance of a youthful Anglo-Saxon, raising my hand, being called on by the teacher, and pronouncing “Sir, I have studied geography all my life, and I spend a lot of time reading maps. I don’t believe there exists such a place called ‘the Malvinas’ though the Falklands…”. I was going to continue that the Falklands “are roughly the shame shape and size and in the same place as this map depicts” (or something to that effect) but I had been interrupted by such a hail of paper, pens, and whatever moveable objects my fellow students could get their hands on (I think Nico, that Russian bastard, had actually thrown a book) that I found it more prudent to take cover underneath my desk rather than continue upon the particular oratorical course upon which I had embarked.

Nonetheless, we pray eternal rest to all the soldiers who fell on those windy isles a quarter-century ago, and that those who survived will live in the peace which their sacrifice has earned for them.

(more…)

Phonebooths

Red telephone booths in the Recoleta neighborhood of Buenos Aires.

Category: Argentina

Argentina’s Henley

JUST NORTH OF Buenos Aires lies the city of Tigre. The city sits on the southern edge of the series of rivers, rivulets, islands, and eyots collectively known as the Parana Delta, after the Rio Parana which breaks up as it reachs the Rio de la Plata. The town’s riparian geography combined with its closeness to Buenos Aires—a mere twenty miles from the Obelisco—make Tigre a popular weekend and summertime getaway. Since the 1870s, however, it has also been the birthplace and focal point of rowing in the country—Argentina’s Henley. (more…)

Centro Naval, Buenos Aires

OUR GOOD FRIEND Tori Truett sends greetings from Buenos Aires where she is visting relatives and her salutation sparked a number of memories from my all-too-short time down there. One of these memories was being relieved upon by a bird whilst pottering about the market of San Telmo one afternoon (it remains the only time I have suffered the indignity of such an aerial bombardment). The good city, however, has more beautiful buildings than the Big Apple, both in quality and quantity. Their good buildings are better than ours, but then their ugly buildings are even uglier. (As terrible as the Whitney Museum is, I doubt it matches the Biblioteca Nacional for sheer vulgarity). (more…)

The Red Lion Coffee Shoppe

Or: How Andrew Cusack Became a Tea Drinker

THE HOT SUMMER sun has fled us here in New York, having been replaced by the cooling but somber clouds of rain. My mind can’t help but harken back to an August of just a few years ago when I spent the summer in Argentina. Of course, New York’s summer is Buenos Aires’s winter, but in Argentina winter means prodigious rain and skies of grey, rather than the glorious snows we’re used to in the Big Apple. On the grounds of St. Alban’s College, our happy little school, there was situated the spartan but merry Red Lion Coffee Shoppe.

On many a cold, grey, Argentine August day we would escape the sufferings of education and flee to the Red Lion. There were two points of service at the Red Lion coffee shop: one a window which faced onto the outside (seen above), the other a hole-in-the wall counter which faced onto the little square room which was the shop. It was a simple, sparsely-decorated room with a few chairs and tables, the walls covered with posters lauding South African rugby and New Zealand cricket, and framed prints depicting charming views of other St Alban’s toponyms around the world: the original St. Alban’s in England, St. Alban’s in South Africa, St. Alban’s in Denmark, St. Alban’s just about everywhere. There was only one heater (the Argentines, in their desire to be in all ways like the British, do not heat their buildings properly) mounted onto the side wall opposite the counter and the obvious idea was to sit right next to the heater or else freeze. It was a black moment when one entered the Red Lion only to discover that others – the nerve! – were already situated by the heater. Rest assured, many a rueful glance was exchanged.

Anyhow, while a number of carbonated beverages were on offer, a nice warm cup of tea was much preferred to a cold, refrigerated soda. Tea at the Red Lion, which was invariably Green Hills, was accompanied by chocolate, usually fulfilled by a packet of M&M’s, but occasionally I went for Rhodesia bars which I confess I only ever bought because of their name. (Incidentally, I took a Rhodesia bar home and when I had a fetching young tutor at St Andrews who was one of the last Rhodesians to be born, I gave it to her as a gift at our last tutorial).

I had never been a regular tea drinker before then and am very glad that I acquired the happy habit; it is one which has stood me well throughout the ages. What better companion in Scotland, for example, while reading as the grey tempest of the Caledonian climate brews outside, than a nice cup of warm brew inside? And of course tea need not be a solitary joy. When I think of the hours wasted away in after-rosary cups of tea on weekday afternoons in St Andrews! It would bring scandal to some. Indeed one cold Scottish afternoon the hours of cups of tea gave way to two bottles of port, and then a raid by a gaggle of ne’erdowells on my secret whiskey reserve! (Duly recounted herein).

At any rate, I believe it to be one of summer’s chief deficiencies that it is too hot for the proper, frequent enjoyment of tea, and so I rather look forward to the coming fall and winter seasons. Nestled in a comfy chair with a nice cup of tea and a good book; could there be pleasures more sublime?

Avenida de Mayo, Buenos Aires

The La Prensa building, formerly home to the newspaper of that name, now the Casa de Cultura.

The subte entrance in front of the edificio La Prensa.

Looking down the Avenida toward the Palacio del Congreso.

The English Tower and Kavanagh Building

THE SAYING GOES that Argentines are all Italians who speak Spanish and want to be English, which is only just short of the truth. Whatever the quip’s verity, Argentina is a nation of the expatriated and for the centennial year of the 1810 May Revolution, the communities from each of the major mother countries — Spain, Italy, Germany, et cetera — built monuments in dedicated places both to commemorate the contributions their kinsman made to their adopted country as well as to celebrate peace and friendship between Argentina and the given motherland. The Plaza Italia, for example, lamentably bears a monument to the scoundrel Garibaldi, donated by the Italian community.

For their monumental contribution to the city of Buenos Aires, the English built a tower in the Edwardian style, rather cleverly as it was still the Edwardian period, and the depth of their cleverness was furthered by their naming it the English Tower (officially Torre de los Ingleses, or Tower of the English). Situated in the center of the Plaza Britannia (Britannia Square) at the junction of the San Martin and Libertador avenues, the Tower was designed by engineer Ambrose Poynter and built by Hopkins and Gardom completely (except for mortar) out of materials from England. Around the base are sculptural representations of the English rose, the Scottish thistle, the Welsh dragon, and the Irish shamrock. The dedication at the entrance to the Tower reads “Al Gran Pueblo Argentino. Los residentes británicos. Salud. 25 de mayo 1810-1910″ or: “To the Great Argentine People, from the British residents: Salud. May 25, 1810-1910″. Towards the rear of the photo to the right you can see the Kavanagh building (Edificio Kavanagh).

The Kavanagh building is situated on the Plaza San Martin across the avenue from the Plaza Britannia. This 29-storey apartment building was designed by the firm of Sanchez, Lagos, and de la Torre, and was the tallest building in Latin America when built in 1936. The sharp art deco design on an angulated plot is said to resemble a ship at sea, and of course Buenos Aires is a port city — its residents are called porteños after all.

The Kavanagh is unquestionably my favorite ‘modern’ building in Buenos Aires, but then modern architecture has not been kind to the city, at least not in the post-war period (c.f. the National Library). The structures built in the 1950′s were only drab and dull whereas the 60′s and 70′s bore the ill fruits of the ‘lets see how many things we can do with concrete’ trend and tended towards the insidiously hideous rather than the mundane. But no matter however irritating these later obtrusions are, at least Buenos Aires still has the Kavanagh.

Despite the generations of immigration, investment, interbreeding, and cultural interchange, relations between Argentina and Great Britain were somewhat marred, shall we say, by the shameful attempt by the unhinged wing of the Argentine military to annex the Falklands and rename every geographical feature therein (seriously, I’ve seen the maps). When they were done renaming everything in the Falklands (or ‘Malvinas’ as they would have us believe) the craze apparently spread homewards to the capital. The Plaza Britannia was renamed the Plaza Fuerza Aerea Argentina (from Britannia Square to Argentine Air Force Square), while the Torre de los Ingleses was rechristneed the more ambiguous Torre Monumental. In an even more unfriendly move, the Memorial to the Fallen of the ‘Malvinas’ was built in Plaza San Martin facing the English Tower across the street. In the spirit of peace and friendship, especially regarding two countries which have such deep links as Britain and Argentina, the Memorial really ought to be removed and placed in some other suitable location in the city. Until that time, it remains the Plaza Britannia in my books, and as for the ‘Malvinas’, no such place exists.

The ‘Malvinas’ memorial viewed from the rear, with the English Tower across the Avenue.

For more on the Kavanagh building see here and here.

Polo

Second international polo match between the United States and the Argentine Republic, 1928.

Squadron Leader Angus McKinnon McVitie (RAF Rtd), Old Philomathian

Last Christmas, Robert Leggat received a card that “made [him] sit up with a jolt”. “It was from Angus McVitie, who had been at St. Alban’s a little before my time,” Mr. Leggat recalls, but by pure coincidence was a member of a church he and his wife went to when they arrived in their current home. “He had recognized my OP tie, and from then onwards we met from time to time, and travelled to London to attend an OP reunion. (For the uneducation: and Old Philomathian is a former student of St Alban’s).

“His card stated simply that his cancer has spread, and that he expected to be called Home in the next few weeks,” Mr. Leggat writes. “He added that he had ‘the privelege of an interesting and rewarding life and my Christian faith to sustain me.”

As predicted, a few weeks later, Mr. McVitie did die, and his eulogy was read by Jack Wardle, who was his cousin as well as being an Old Philomathian. Here is part of it, reproduced from Mr. Leggat’s website:

Although cousin Angus would loved to have flown, for different reasons, Concorde and the Lancaster, and he had clocked up 11000 flying hours on all sorts of aircrafts, his greatest delight was the award of an Honorary Fellowship of the Society of Experimental Test Pilots in 1994 when he was numbered, amongst others, with Group Capt. John Cunningham of Comet fame, Charles Lindberg, Air Commodore Sir Frank Whittle. He had previously, in 1988, received The Derry and Richards Memorial Medal, from the Guild of Air Pilots and Air Navigators, for test flying of outstanding value.

Although no prizes to guess his Scottish ancestry, it all began in The Forgotten Colony – Argentina. The English, Irish, Welsh and Scots had settled there in the 19th Century, making an incredible contribution without actually ruling the place! They formed their own communities..most of the Scots were farmers as were my ancestors, forming strong matriarchal societies marrying others who came over the horizon!. They celebrated St Andrew’s Day and Burns Night, had Gatherings of the Clans and Caledonian Balls, started their own Scots Church with itinerant ministers, schools and cemeteries. Practically everybody was related, or thought they were, however distant.

Eventually we ended up in St. Alban’s College, a public School. Angus was a Day Boy; I a boarder which meant invites to tea etc. and I well remember his bedroom, littered with The Meccanno Magazine and models of Aeroplanes all over the place as well as hanging from the ceiling. We were also members of a boy’s Bible Class called Crusaders, run by one of the masters, Charlie Cohen, which also meant free tea and plenty of wads!

That’s where it all began. He just wanted to fly and there was no action in Argentina. So in 1943, in mid war, he worked his passage on a banana boat to Britain and joined the Bristol Aeroplane Company at Filton, Bristol as a student apprentice. It was the nearest he could get to aeroplanes, but discovered he could learn to fly Tiger Moths at the University Air Squadron. That’s when we joined up again about 1947/8… Bristol, Filton and Crusader leaders, where he was highly regarded. One of the seniors, now well into his 80′s, remembers him as a “genial, gentle, giant”.

The next stop was Glasgow University, early 50′s perhaps, where we tried to do Aeronautical Engineering. He flew most of the time and we lived in a place called Duntocher, which has disappeared, under motorways and development. The bungalow belonged to a certain Donald McLeod, whc had been commissioned in The Black Watch during the war, and was in ministerial training. The problem was looking after the place and studying at the same time. We often recruited, had to recruit, the ladies from the College of Domestic Science to spend a Saturday with us doing the necessary cleaning and cooking.

By 1950 he had decided on a career in the RAF and gained his ‘wings’ in 1951 at Syerston, Nottinghamshire. Posted to Transport Command, he served in the Middle East, during the Mau Mau Emergency. He was ADC flying top brass about as well as in his own words ‘dropping Bronco’ from Valettas and Ansons. He managed to fit in a wedding to Sheila in 1957.

But all along, his boyhood ambitions was in test flying, as did so many in that era. In 1956 he was accepted for the Empire Test Pilots School at the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough — “the hardest years’ work I ever did” — and stayed on there for three years after qualifying, as the last test pilot with the National Turbine Establishment.

Then, all set to return to Transport Command Brittania Squadron at Lyneham, someone called him back and asked, rather apologetically, if he wouldn’t mind going instead to RAE Bedford as Commanding Officer of Aero Flight, which was, in those days a plum test pilot’s job. After two years, there was Staff College at Bracknell, followed by secondment to the Royal Malaysian Air Force running their Joint Operations Centre during the emergency. A desk job at the MOD, dealing mostly with fighter and helicopter cockpits was a pain…endless meetings fighting with financiers and so much being cancelled, with hardly any flying, decided him to take early retirement with the rank of Squadron Leader, and joined the College of Aeronautics at Cranfield Aerodrome as Chief Test Pilot in 1968.

But for all that, and its quite a career, Angus’s greatest joy was Sheila and Shuna, Fiona and Lorna… as he wrote in his Christmas card “the privilege of our interesting and rewarding life and my Christian faith to sustain me”. He had already written “my time to be with the Lord is fast approaching”. Well, that is where he is which is far better. He knew from an early age the assurance and certainty that his name was written in the “Lamb’s book of Life” (Rev 21.27).

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.